


One Click Away

by clarissa_writes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Obsessive Behavior, Oral Sex, Possessive Bucky Barnes, Smut, Stalker Bucky Barnes, Vaginal Fingering, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, dark bucky, dark bucky barnes, dark!bucky barnes, he is obsessed with you, obsessive Bucky Barnes, you're a youtuber
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 13:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20471543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarissa_writes/pseuds/clarissa_writes
Summary: Since returning from Wakanda, Bucky has found himself struggling with  socializing. He just isn’t good at being out there anymore.But that’s okay.He doesn’t need anyone else.He has you.After all, you’re just one click away.





	One Click Away

He wasn’t always like this.

Bucky had vague -but many- memories of being popular amongst his peers, especially among dames. He can remember snippets and loose recollections of pretty smiles, soft hands, plump lips staining his skin red and the same lips wrapping around his cock. 

Yeah, he had many memories of those, but never ones with dames that had the same face.

Each memory was with a different dame.

Sure, the dames knew what they were getting into. He was always upfront about what he wanted. He would take them out for a night, maybe get lucky and he’d start all over again the next day with a different girl on his arm. It’s not like his reputation as the neighborhood’s Casanova didn’t ward off the good girls. They all knew what they signed up for when they gave in to his charming smile and smooth-as-butter words.

He took what he could, never pried for more than they were willing to give and never gave more than _he_ was willing to give.

But that was just it.

Purely physical.

Pointless.

No attachments whatsoever.

At the time, he was young, hormonal, over-his head and the last thing on his mind was going steady with someone. ‘Sides, he was going off to _war_. He knew what that meant. No guaranteeing he would live to the see the next day. There was no need to have a pretty dame crying over him when he didn’t come back.

_If_ he didnt come back.

And he didn't, so in a way its for the best.

He’s not sure if knowing this was worse. He’s glad he didn’t have anyone special he had left behind- Steve was still mulling over Carter and will probably never fully move on. He never had to feel his heart break and ache over the _what ifs_ like Steve did. Then again, he never had that _once in a life time_ kind of love. 

He never got to experience the fireworks, the all-consuming passion he’s heard people talk about. 

The kind of love that made the world disappear when the person you love is in front of you.

He’d made fun of Steve, calling him a starry-eyed muck the night when Carter came in with that pretty red dress. Now, he couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Envious of what he had. Or at least, the start of what he had.

And Bucky now?

Now that he was older and been through lifetimes worth of pain?

He wanted nothing more than someone to love and cherish. To come home to, to care for and to_ be_ cared for. He wanted someone to hug him, to kiss his forehead and to tell him everything’s okay.

He could snort at the thought.

Now that he wanted that? He would never get it.

Not when he was the Winter Soldier.

Not when he was so socially constipated and awkward and just-

_incapable_.

He was incapable of forming relationships the way he used to.

How was he supposed to find a dame who could love him? Who could stand him? Who could look at his arm and say “I love everything about you”, blood on his hands, torture, nightmare-ridden nights and all?

Especially in this time? He had no idea how to talk to dames, let alone flirt with them. Not that he had any interest in any of them anyway. In every party Stark threw, he had some offers from several women, batting lashes and sultry voices asking him if he wanted to stay over.

He couldn’t find it himself to get interested. Not when most of them just wanted to experience the Winter Soldier and nothing more. They didn’t care to get to know him. Then again, it’s not like he can say he cared to really get to know them either.

His therapist had told him to slowly start exploring the new world by himself. On his own account. It was some form of ‘independence’. Taking control of his life, he supposes. He had talked to the others, asked Sam about what he needed to know about the twenty first century. All the movies, books, and important events he’d missed.

Eventually, Youtube was brought up.

He used to think it was funny. Maybe a little weird. Seeing these vloggers talking to you as if they could see you. As if you could talk back.He imagines what it must look like at the vloggers end. Just sitting in a room, talking to a camera endlessly without anyone answering back. 

It had to be awkward.

How does someone even have that much to say? How does someone have such an interesting life that they make thirty minute long videos of their day every week?

And then he stumbled upon you.

You were popular; reining in eight million subscribers. 

The first video he saw from you intrigued him. 

He had been lost in a world of videos, surfing through many of them when he found videos about him. Some calling him dangerous, going as far as calling him a monster. He couldn’t lie. It stung. It stung seeing so many people hate him even when they didn’t know him.

He kept refreshing the page. More videos uploaded about him every few minutes. He remembered that today was the anniversary of Stark’s death. Though Tony had understood from the get-go, never giving him a hard time about it, the public had never been so kind. Howard Stark was an enigma the world lost too soon, and it was all his fault.

It made his heart clench.

Guilt weighed down on him and almost made him black out when you suddenly popped up.

Your video had been different.

_BUCKY BARNES DID NOTHING WRONG AND YOU ALL NEED TO SHUT UP._

It started with that one click.

That one press of his mouse.

The day he watched that video, inevitably tied you together. 

You were pretty-gorgeous even- in that refreshing sort of way.

You were nothing like the dames he’d seen in Stark’s party. There was no air of _expensive_ around you, no air of _plastic_ and_ fake_. You were completely natural. Refreshing. _Real_. His heart skipped a beat. He prepared himself when you smiled at the camera, he waited for your sweet voice and then you spoke-

“BUCKY BARNES IS A VICTIM AND YOU ALL NEED TO UNDERSTAND THAT.”

Bucky wasnt sure what he was expecting, but he was certainly not expecting _that_. Many of the videos he stumbled upon has smooth, calming intros and then here you were on the start of a rampage.

You went on in a rant, saying how he had no control over his actions and he deserved better than the public calling him a menace. You said things he wished he could say, vocalized things he was afraid people would take the wrong way if he said it.

He watched you defend him.

Watched you cry for him when recounting his torture.

Watched you pour your heart out.

And he couldnt help but cry with you.

The video had gotten such a positive feedback, he was almost astonished to see 3.5 million people liking your video and leaving comments in support of him.

From that day on, he was obsessed. 

He made an account to subscribe to you. He turned his notifications on so he could watch you the minute you uploaded a new video (which was every Wednesday). He was smitten. Like a fool, he had obsessed with you.

He watched every single video you made since the beginning, working himself up to where you were now. He was happy to see you were still the same bubbly, kind, funny, sweet girl he had watched. Some might call it an addiction, but to him? This was therapeutic. This was salvation.

It started off innocent enough.

He smiled when he watched your videos, laughed in appropriate times when you made jokes and he couldn’t shake off the feeling he knew you. That you two were connected. Sometimes he found himself answering when you recounted a funny story when you were younger, going on to say “you’re so silly, Doll” even when he knew you couldn’t hear him. Sometimes he laid at night, thinking how life would be if you were here in front of him. If you two knew each other. If you two were friends.

The others had made fun of him, calling him a fan. Because it was kind of funny, wasn’t it? An Avenger, ex-Winter Soldier religiously watching a bubbly vlogger on Youtube? The press would’ve loved that. They would’ve eaten that shit up.

Then one day, the innocence of Bucky’s interest in you changed with one video.

You were on vacation, somewhere on some beach he couldnt care about.

And you were wearing a bikini.

Bucky had blushed, and looked away at first. He wasn’t used to how women dressed these days. How much more revealing their clothes were. Even swimsuits became daring and here you were in a black, sleek set that outlined the curve of your breasts and left little to the imagination.

His brows furrowed when he remembered to check the comments. He knew he wasn’t the only hot-blooded male watching you, but surely no one would say anything inappropriate. Surely no man was foolish enough to say anything about _his_ babydoll.

_ **I can’t tell what’s the real view. You or the beach.** _

** _If only I was there with you, princess_ **

_ **Fuck. You’re so hot.** _

**_That body tho_** 👀

The rage that filtered into him the more and more he scrolled down to read those comments had been tremendous. He felt himself getting angry, felt the soldier peeking above his facade. How dare they?

How dare they say such things about you.

Look at you in that way?

How dare they ogle what was _his_.

Slowly, Bucky looked up.

He couldnt help the way the sight of you in that swimsuit stirred the heat in the lower pits of his stomach. How his blood boiled, and his throat dried. He told himself to calm down. Unlike those men in these comments, you two had an actual connection.

You were _his_.

Those men would die and shrivel up without ever getting to know how those pretty red lips of yours taste like.

That night, he touched himself to you.

That night, things took a turn.

Part of being an avenger -Bucky soon realized- was keeping up your reputation. They had their own PR team handling everything and many encouraged him to start social media. He was always hesitant; Bucky didn’t want hate comments filling up his accounts but gave in when Steve mentioned you had one.

He made Instagram.

He quickly got 23.8 million followers that week.

He followed you.

You followed him.

And the link was established.

**_Bucky Babe Barnes just followed me??? He has Instagram??? Am I dreaming?_**??

Was the caption under your newest photo.

You were in nothing but pajamas and a loose hoodie, hair messy and face bare but sparkling with excitement. He couldn’t help the smile on his face. He couldn’t help feeling giddy over this. He liked the photo but couldnt bring himself to comment.

Not yet.

He clenched his metal fist as he ran his flesh thumb across the screen, seemingly caressing over your smiling face.

Not just yet.

He told himself.

He still had to prepare.

—

It was gradual.

Moderate.

Slow.

Cautious.

But Bucky was always good at being patient.

He made up his mind long ago that you would be his.

After all, you understood him so well. You were so sweet and caring. So selfless and giving. You were everything he wanted and with the way you had gushed about him, you wanted the same. It had to be fate. It was meant to be.

He started off small.

Liking your posts, making sure to post pictures of himself when he knew you would be awake (it was easier to know since you both lived in New York), checking your earlier pictures and seeing what sort of things you liked. He already had FRIDAY find out where you lived but he refrained from going there himself...

But he had enough. 

It was time to get what was his.

And as he waited inside your apartment, sitting on the couch with a bouquet of flowers settled at the coffee table front of him, he waited for you to return.

When the jingling of your keys sounded from outside and the lock finally turned, he smiled to himself.

You were finally going to be together.

You were his.

_Only his._


End file.
